


Sparring

by graceandfire



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-26
Updated: 2010-02-26
Packaged: 2017-10-07 13:47:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graceandfire/pseuds/graceandfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A quick, happy scene early in Season 1 where Dean realizes just how much he's missed sparring with Sam while his brother was at Stanford.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sparring

A leg sweep takes Dean down because Sam has the longest, freakiest legs in the entire fucking world; freaky _mutant_ legs. He shares this fact with his brother as he catches his breath and tries to work out how to get free from Sammy’s wrestling hold.

“My legs are _not_ mutant legs,” Sam sounds irritated, grunting with the effort to keep Dean held down and Dean smirks up at him knowing it will irritate Sam even more. Sure enough it makes his brother's frown darken into a scowl and gives Dean the distraction he needs to flip Sam on his ass, roll up and dance back out of the reach of those freaky mutant legs.

“Dude! I am a _normal_ size, okay!?” Sam’s bangs are darkened with sweat and clinging to his forehead and Dean doesn’t know how the hell Sam can stand it. His own hair gets cut frequently, by himself if need be, although Sam’s a pretty decent hand with a pair of scissors. Of course, the other part of the reason Dean keeps his hair short is that while Dean takes for granted the fact that he’s a whole lot of pretty, he’s aware that when his hair gets to a certain length he moves past ‘manly’ pretty into 'horrifyingly girly' pretty, which, fuck no.

“Yeah, if by normal you mean a normal _Sasquatch_, freak boy,” Dean smiles mockingly and barely dodges away from Sam’s retaliating blow accompanied by narrowed eyes. Damn, his baby brother’s fast. A flash of pride shoots through him even as he coolly plans the best way to take Sam down.

Dean has missed this. God he's missed this. When Sam had left, sparring with Dad had kept him in practice but it hadn’t been…fun. Sparring with Sammy has always been fun. Even when they were kids and Dean was miles ahead of Sam in terms of knowledge, strength, size and speed it had been fun, seeing Sam’s young face set into all kinds of stubborn, seeing his baby bro light up when he did something right, beaming with pride at a word of praise from Dean. It had been fun when mock insults and jeers became a standard part of their sparring, coming more frequently and creatively the older Sammy got. It had been fun when Sammy had started landing more and more blows, when Dean had stopped holding back, had stopped teaching and just started fighting; trading blow for unbridled blow.

As Sam had become Dean’s equal in hand to hand Dean had felt nothing more than sheer, beaming pride and a vast wash of relief because even though his heart and soul fiercely insisted that he would _always _be there to protect his Sammy, his brain knew that sometimes Sammy would have to protect himself. Seeing his brother as his equal had brought a feeling of pure satisfaction, unblemished by anything dark. A funny contrast to the day years later when Dean had realized he himself was becoming his Dad’s equal in hand to hand. _That_ day had brought with it a strange and almost painful mixture of elation, pride and sick horror. Because Dad was larger than life and Dean wasn’t supposed to be able to beat him. Ever.

An arm flies past him, is deflected by his own second nature block and Dean slides into his favorite move…offense all the fucking way. His elbow catches Sam in the gut, causing a grunt and a stumble and Dean follows up with a quick flip that has Sam skidding across the floor. Quick as a big, lanky cat Sam’s up and smiling grimly, eyes fierce and focused. Sam’s always taken their training seriously. Even as a teenager grumbling about God Damn _everything, _rebelling against Dad with every other breath and fiercely resenting the time away from his studies; every time he’d stepped onto a floor to spar with Dean, his focus would still snap on, his very nature driving him to do well even when he resented the hell out of the need for it.

Sam’s fierce smile turns into a quizzical frown now. “What are you smiling at, you loon?” His tone is honestly puzzled. Dean takes training seriously. It’s one of the few things he ever _does_ take seriously.

Dean shakes his head and wipes what feels like a silly smile off of his face, replacing it with a cocky grin. “Nothing,” he smirks out. “Now stop stalling princess. Unless you need the rest that is.”  

Sam rolls his eyes and quick as a flash has Dean in a head lock which ends after a brief, vicious struggle with Dean kissing the floor.

Dean rolls himself up, knows his lip is bloody and has to suppress another stupid assed grin.

Damn, he really has missed this.


End file.
